


What I Would Do For A Smile

by NahNah



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bathing, Brain Damage, Cannibalism, Depression, Gen, Hide is not ok, Kaneki is not ok, Past Torture, Self-Harm, Torturing my fav characters, recovery fic, why am I so mean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-27 10:12:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5044372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NahNah/pseuds/NahNah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Kaneki, let’s get out of the cold, ok?” And his hand meets a dry, icy shoulder.<br/>…<br/>“Kaneki?”<br/>No, something is wrong.<br/>Hide lightly shakes Kaneki’s shoulder and Kaneki scratches the wall again with broken nails. Hide roughly shuffles in front of his best friend to be face-to-face for the first time in six months.<br/>---------------<br/>The Raid on Aogiri didn't come as quickly as anyone would have liked, and Kanki suffers far worse than ever before in the hands of Yamori. He esscapes alone.<br/>Months after the Raid, Hide is walking on his last thread of hope to find his friend. The two meet again next to a dumpster, but something is terribly wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Morning Stroll

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Beautiful.  
> It has been been about three years since I have written anything but an essay. Unsurprisingly my life has gotten better in the mean time, but I found myself in such a good mood I just had to write something depressing to even things out.
> 
> So, here it is. I am sorry. This sucks.

Why is he walking, at a time so dark, in weather like this? The cold bites him hard and seeps its harsh teeth into his bones. His need for it makes no sense, but the sensation undeniably makes him feel better, or at least, feel something.

 He had needed to get out. He realises he needs a stroll outside. Just his body knew before his head.

Hide gazes at the ice patterns on the hard street before his boot-clad feet, his mind without a thought. But nothing of much importance has been on his mind in a long while, not since the Raid on Aoigiri. Not even his destination is clear, if there is one. He just needs to walk, so he keeps walking. Maybe he wouldn’t go back.

Hide doesn’t mind that thought; to not go back. He doesn’t mind going back either, but what was there? A small apartment filled with over-due papers for both his job and his college degree. A messy bed, piles of clothes he’s always too tired to tend to. Dusty pictures in faded frames he stares at too much; particularly the ones of a black haired man he once knew.

 _Kaneki_.

If there was a topic that came to his mind the most in his hazy days, it would be Kaneki with no surprise. Lately less so, like most things, but the tug of an undefined and potent pain was still there, as well as unanswered questions higher than that pile of damned clothes.

 _Where are you?_ Had once topped his list and was met with a determination he can’t remember having.

 _What could I have done?_ Now lays claim to his despair.

A sudden gust of bitter wind startles Hide, and only when the shock passes does he realise how tired he is. How stupid this idea was. Who goes for a leisurely stroll at 12am?

 _Only idiots_ , Hide thinks. He tugs his cote tighter around himself, constrictingly so, and turns around. He only gets so far before bitterly deciding to take shelter in an alleyway and wait for the wind to calm down. As much as he likes the cold biting his cheeks (likes feeling something so _there_ ) he couldn’t stand even that wind much longer.

As he listens to his attacker and savour howl, Hide feels that undefined pain once again and wonders if Kaneki is in this small insult of a storm, or was once in a similar cold, all alone.

_What could I have done?_

Answerers to this question always came in abundance, but none ever satisfied. Hide supposes they are not supposed to. The answers made him feel hollow, pain, despair, and guilt, and that is what he deserves.

He could have helped Kaneki. He could have, he is sure. But that was not what he did, not how things played out, and now he has no idea what has become of his best friend. He was too busy playing the man behind the scenes where he thought he would be most useful and resourceful. But to conclude; he watched to the side as Kaneki suffered so much, so alone. 

Can he even call himself a _friend_?

Kaneki could be alive.

Kaneki could be dead.

Hide would not know either way.

Hide grips the fabric of his shirt at his chest and his throat constricts, as if keeping something down, maybe a scream, maybe his demons. His eyes close tight.

They open when a sound jumps apart from the howl of the wind. It comes from down the alley, like a tin falling, maybe a can. Hide’s eyes stay on the floor.

It must have been the wind or even a cat if an animal was as stupid as Hide to be out here. The victim of whatever caused the sound really was a can, and it roles innocently in front of him. A Pepsi can, to be clear, crushed but not extremely so.

Hide looks down the dark alley where the already rare light doesn’t seem to favour. Even as the wind dies down he takes steps further into the black.

 _How stupid_ , Hide thinks again. He has been thinking this a lot lately. _What am I doing?_ But his feet keep moving.

He comes to a dumpster of the darkest green, and it’s on its side. Its trash stretches out to cover the ground as far as it is able to reach. What’s stranger still is the cans; all crushed and thrown.

Not cats, and the wind wasn’t strong enough in the alley to do this much damage.

Maybe Hide should have been more afraid, more cautious even, at the oddity of this discovery. He knew as well as anyone the dangers lurking about the streets of Tokyo at night. But maybe that was another reason he left his apartment at such a time. Fear is a feeling.

So Hide steps on the trash, over it, slips once, and stills, because there is another sound.

Scratching, scratching, and _scratching_ on the wall to his right behind the tipped dumpster.

Hide’s breath runs faster as he takes more steps forward. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ Hide thinks, _This is suicidal_ , and maybe it was. Maybe, not so deep down, he didn’t mind that.

When Hide finally gets his glimpse around the metal his breath stopes immediately.

White hair is the first thing anyone would notice, and it seems to glow in the night like the beacon of an angle. A back faces Hide clad in a nice, black shirt.

Hide chokes, and his throat burns.

The man is crouched with one hand upon the wall.

 _Kane…ki_ , Hide barely allows himself to think, because it has been months since he has given himself permission to hope. Hide steps forward, but finds it inexcusably hard. He almost falls to his knees.

The man, Kaneki, doesn’t move.

“Hey,” Hide finally speaks a greeting, and he hates how it comes out. He has imagined seeing Kaneki again hundreds of times. Countless, really. Seeing him down the street; he would run to him. Finding him at his door; coolly invite him inside with a coffee and a reassuring smile, if the situation permits it. Kaneki has yelled at him as well. Blamed him, furious, as he has every right to be…

 _You knew?! Why didn’t you tell me you knew all along?_ _Why didn’t you help me, Hide?!_

Now, right now when it mattered, he is a blank page where a president’s speech should be.

Kaneki, right _in_ _front_ of him, still hasn’t moved.

“Hey, Kaneki. It’s me, Hide.”

Nothing. Hide shifts on his feet, nervous or cold or both.

“I-I understand if you don’t want to talk.” Hide continues, grabbing at sentences from the roleplays he used to have in his head. “But I….” And he is at another loss. He looks everywhere but Kaneki.

Until Kaneki’s hand moves. It scratches the wall once then stops, a sickening crumbling sound of the bricks under his nails to fill the silence between them. His pure hair shudders more than he does when a brisk breeze slips past them.

“Kaneki…I knew. I have known for a long time now.” Hide says it louder over the wind, but still speaks softer than he is known for. He tries not to cling to his jacket sleeves in anxiety as he admits this. He is sure his friend would know what he is referring to. “But I don’t care about that, man.” Hide takes steps forward, suddenly regaining a bout of confidence until he is kneeling right next to Kaneki.

Nothing still. Was Kaneki so mad at him? Confused, possibly?

“Come on man. Kaneki, let’s get out of the cold, ok?” And his hand meets a dry, icy shoulder.

…

…

“Kaneki?”

No, something is wrong.

Hide lightly shakes Kaneki’s shoulder, and Kaneki scratches the wall again with broken fingernails. Hide roughly shuffles in front of his best friend to be face-to-face for the first time in six months.

Yes, something is very wrong. Hide was wrong. Kaneki’s strands of hair are not pure and white as he thought he saw. It is mattered; it’s filled with dirt, blood, garbage. Kaneki’s nice, black shirt is in reality ripped and torn everywhere, and it isn’t supposed to be black. Once-white jeans are cut from above his knees as if a chainsaw was taken to them, and by the look if not the smell, they are soiled.

How was he so blind?

“Ka…Kaneki?”

 _Scratch_.

“Hey, hey, Kaneki,” Hide carefully, as if he were the thinnest of glass, grabs either side of his friend’s freezing face and locks eyes, dark brown to pale grey.

Nothing.

“No…no, Kaneki what happened to you?” But he knows by now there would be no answer. Those eyes look past him for the longest distance, and his hand, again, rubes his fingers into the rough stone.

“Hey,” Hide gently says, whispers, “You need to stop that, man.” He puts his hand atop the freezing, bloody one and brings it to Kaneki’s lap.

Then, he takes off his jacket with much less than a thought to ponder or discuss. It is almost automatic. He helps Kaneki slowly, so, so slowly, to put it on and Kaneki’s first sounds is a small whine as his right arm gets pulled in.

“I’m sorry,” Hide says, but he doesn’t know what Kaneki finds confronting. He doesn’t know why Kaneki doesn’t say. Hide knows he isn’t apologising for the jacket. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, Kaneki.”

Another arm and another whine, another choked apology.

Hide zips the jacket shut.

“Warmer?” He asks, and rubes over Kaneki’s arms to make sure it is. He tries to smile, but only tries, and Kaneki hugs himself with another whine. This whine is different somehow.

“Kaneki,” Hide addresses.

 Kaneki doesn’t look up, doesn’t uncurl or make a sound.

“Let’s go home.”

* * *

 

It’s surprising how much he doesn’t think about the cold. Now without a jacket it should be unbearable, but that never crosses Hide’s mind. He dashes down the many streets of Tokyo though, determined to get the man he is holding to a warm, safe place.

Hide tries his best to be fast but also accommodating to Kaneki. The man has his chin on Hide’s shoulder and they are chest-to-chest. Hide grips Kaneki’s new jacket to support his back, and an arm under his butt. It is awkward considering the lack of a height difference and the messy hair in his face, but Hide makes it work.

Kaneki used to be shorter.

There are few people anywhere at such an hour so the run back is a clear shot with little disturbance. He still takes the alleyways, just to be safe.

Hide tries to run as well as keep steady, but again Kaneki’s teeth clash and he whines.

“Sorry, buddy.” Hide manages to say through ragged breathing, and gets some hair in his mouth as a result.

They are up the apartment complex’s concrete stairs with a struggle, but again, Hide makes it work. He has to.

He holds Kaneki tighter as he walks the outside balcony and comes to his door, but realises he has to reach for his keys in his pants pocket when his arms are already very full.

“Shit. Umm,” He looks for a chair to put Kaneki on, but his friend has to settle for the hard, concrete floor.

Hide has never been so delicate to anything or anyone. He gradually descends to his knees, as slow as a crane, and only then does he start to place Kaneki on the floor just as slowly. First Kaneki’s butt, then his legs and Kaneki tilts forward to rest his forehead on Hide’s shoulder and another whine comes from the back of his throat. Kaneki doesn’t let go of the back of Hide’s shirt.

That is okay, Hide just needs his hands.

“Just a second, Kaneki, and we will be out of the cold, ok?” Hide fusses over his cargo-pants pockets (why did he feel the need to have so many pockets?) and he produces a key shortly with a ‘ _finally’_ and calmly puts Kaneki back in his arms.

With a lot less juggling of bodies than he thought would be needed, Hide opens the door to their home.

The living room is dark when Hide walks them through the threshold, and it remains so until Hide gently _plops_ Kaneki on the couch and he is free to turn on the lights.

Disgusting is a fare description for the apartment, the living room is no exception. Hide can’t remember the last time he vacuumed the light blue (he thinks) rug. Mugs and folders hide the coffee table. The couch is small and brown and the cleanest place in the living room. It sits against a cream wall that adorns a pin-board filled with paper Hide has to sort out. It also has a lot of glue-tack.

Kaneki curls into himself as soon as he is left without Hide to hold, and Hide quickly closes the front door.

“Are you still cold?” Hide fusses. Even as he asks this he is walking toward his bedroom for a blanket.

Now, if the living room is bad, his bedroom is evil. The dirty clothes pile of hell sits anywhere it wants and with the trash, papers and sheets, Hide forgets what the floor is supposed to look like. It takes only a second to retrieve his quilt, for it is on the floor at the door.

Hide puts the quilt (a very nice and thick one his Grandma made) over Kaneki, who is still, literally and metaphorically, frozen on the couch. He tucks and rubs the quilt as much as he can to warm the man.

 _How long was he out there for?_ It feels as though he has never been warm.

As Hide realises he has done everything he can to keep Kaneki warm, he finally sits down in front of the couch. Kaneki has closed his eyes, how long ago Hide doesn’t know, but he is happy for it.

 _Happy_.

Kaneki is here, Kaneki is sleeping on his couch, and _Kaneki is alive_!

Hide either doesn’t notice his head falling to the ground or he is too happy to care. He passes out on the floor beside the couch, beside his alive, warm best friend.


	2. Clean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello gorgeous.  
> Thanks for all the reviews and kudos~ I hope you like this chapter.
> 
> carry on~

“Kaneki, I think your bookshelf is going to explode.”

Kaneki didn’t look up from his sheets of homework. He only hummed, maybe in agreement, but Hide knew his friend wasn’t listening to him.

Hide stared at the thin, tall, dark wood bookshelf with unease. The thing was _stuffed_ from head to toe, more stuffed than a fat women getting into a size 6 pair of jeans. There were even books atop the shelf, cramming their way into the small space between the ceiling and the armed-weapon.

You wouldn’t think you could be inhumane to books, and Hide wouldn’t have guessed Kaneki to be the one to open his eyes.

“Seriously, one day this apartment block is gonna blow,” Hide continued, “And it will be because of your bookshelf.”

“The bookshelf is fine, Hide.” Kaneki said in a tone not unlike a parent trying to silence a child, still reading over his sheets at the coffee table in front of his bed. Hide supposed the sheets contained whatever literary majors’ study.

“They will mass-produce them as the ultimate weapon.” Hide hummed to the room, “Kaneki-Bookshelf-Bombs. That is how you will be remembered.”

“Don’t you have homework to do?” Kaneki finally turned to look a Hide with a huff, and Hide showed a cocky smile.

“Already done, ‘Neki. You know me.” Hide stood from Kaneki’s well-made bed with a stretch, leaving a dent in the quilt. Kaneki showed a small smirk, because yes, he did, and turned back to his work.

Hide was brave enough to touch the spines of the books and he gently dragged is fingers across the spines as he skimmed them. Some were smooth, some rough, some small, and some unreadably thick. Kaneki had them all.

“Aren’t these things mostly about death and destruction anyway? You are kinda jinxing it.”

“Hide,” Kaneki’s eyes didn’t leave is reading material. It always amazed Hide how Kaneki could keep a smooth conversation with him while simultaneously taking in every written word. “It’s not going to explode. And I like to think they are about the hardships of life, not death.”

Hide hummed in agreement and sat opposite Kaneki and his work on the coffee table. “Yeah, you would.” He said lightly, sincerely.

There was a comfortable silence as Kaneki scribbled on his paper.

“Need any help?”

“Go away.” Kaneki smiled.

* * *

 

Hide wakes up from the worst sleep of his life. Can he even call that a sleep? It feels like he barely blinked. But the sun piercing through his small living room window onto his exposed skin tells him; yes, he really did pass out on the floor for an undetermined amount of hours.

Hide groans and brings his hands to rub at his exhausted eyes, but they are blocked by a foot dangling over his face. A very dirty foot attached to the leg hanging from the couch.

“ _Ewww_.” Hide pushes the foot back onto the brown furniture and after decides to pick himself up as well. He gets as far as sitting up before stopping to collect his head. It starts spinning. That was too fast, he concludes, and gradually gets himself to his feet.

Kaneki is still sleeping on his belly with a steady, rhythmic rise and fall of his back and in turn the colourful quilt as well. His face, although smudged with substances Hide can’t identify, is the definition of _calm_ , and Hide looks at it for too long.

Hide stumbles to the adjoined kitchen. It is as good a size as any, not too small, could be bigger, and has an island counter (score). The tops of the counters are white and would shine if wiped down. This part of their small space has got to be one of the cleanest in the home, aside to the bathroom. It is a room where you just clean things, you can’t beat that.

“Coffee. Yeah, coffee sounds great.” Hide gets two mugs from the cupboard and he genuinely smiles, because there are two to get coffee for today. One is green, and one is blue.

Kaneki likes the colour blue.

With the pouring of water comes a hum from Hide’s lips, and he can call the small circles he makes as he slowly tips the water into the cups therapeutic. Steam comes off the cups of freshly made coffee as he walks them to the living room. He wants to put them on the coffee table, but finds that he can’t.

“Oh…” There is no room on the tiny table. Empty mugs have stolen any place for Hide or Kaneki’s full ones to go, and extra, random folders make sure of it.

Hide puts the hot mugs back on the island counter with a huff.

He stuffs the folders wherever he can away from the surface (he really needs find a place to put his school work). Hide grabs as many cups as he can in his arms but still needs to take two trips.He looks at the pile of them, now on the sink, and wonders if he should clean them all now to get it over with before Kaneki wakes up.

The sudden sound of the quilt-clad man stirring from the living room answers his question for him.

Hide grabs the (still hot hot hot) cups of coffee and walks back to the couch.

Kaneki is sitting up, his quilt still half on him but half not. The jacket is creeping up his torso. His eyes stare at the window.

Hide doesn’t know what he is feeling, but he thinks the overwhelming emotion of nostalgia is to blame, because Kaneki is sitting on his couch again, and they are about to have a nice cup of coffee again. Hide smiles as bright as the sun lighting the room.

“Hey Kaneki, how did you sleep?” Hide asks and (finally) puts the coffee on the table.

Kaneki doesn’t move.

…

“Would you like some coffee?” Hide pushes the mug closer to Kaneki in case his friend hasn’t seen it. His eyes haven’t left the window (Or was he looking at the wall?) so that was most likely.

Kaneki’s eyes do leave the wall/window eventually, and he looks at his own hand. This hand still has flaking blood on its fingertips from when Hide found him scratching, and that is what Kaneki does again. His hand scratches the couch.

“Hey, hey Kaneki,” Hide stresses. There is no damage to the skin of the sofa but that is not what is concerning Hide so greatly. Hide, from where he is kneeling to the side of the couch, puts a hand over Kaneki’s.

Kaneki looks up fast for the first time at Hide, like he only now notices he is not alone. His face constricts and morphs into the first expression since last night.

And Hide is an idiot. He knows a big part of him, bigger than reason, hoped it was the cold. He prayed it was. _That_ part of him hummed as he got coffee, smiled as he watched his friend sleep soundly. That part of him wondered what they would talk about over the steaming cups. There is no rationality, only Hide in a dazed nostalgic dream. But Kaneki’s expression was not one Hide could remember.

Creased eyebrows, mouth stretching down as far as it can even if painful, and eyes that don’t know what to do, what they are looking at or for.

 _Pain_. Pain like nothing Hide could imagine.

“Kaneki,” Hide tries not to choke on the name, “…Do you remember me?” Is all he thinks to ask that face.

Kaneki tries to move his hand from underneath Hide’s.

“Hide.” Hide insists, rubbing his thumb kindly into the struggling hand. “Hide, you know?”

Kaneki shocks Hide when he throws his other arm out (maybe because he is panicked, maybe there is no reason), and consequently knocks over the blue mug. Warm coffee floods the table and falls to the carpet with a quick _splosh_.

“Kaneki!” Hide doesn’t mean to cry so loud in alarm. But he does, and Kaneki jumps from the couch, turns, and attempts to walk toward the bedroom. Only _attempts_ , because a second later he is tripping over a folder to the floor.

Hide jumps to his feet with so much concern he thinks he could burst. He is at Kaneki’s side in much less than a second, but he reluctantly stops himself from touching his friend. He doesn’t want to shock or terrify or intrude on Kaneki’s personal space any more than he has. So he sits on his knees, hands out if needed because he can’t stand doing nothing.

Kaneki whines as he lies on his stomach, and his head buries in his arms so far Hide can only see hair.

Hide stills until his heart and mind stop racing, and he lowers his arms with a sigh. A very heavy breath he knew he couldn’t hold in any longer. He looks to the coffee table, stained with brown liquid that fell from the edge along with that stupid, stupid hope.

A blue fucking mug. Fucking hell, a Blue. Mug. Kaneki doesn’t need his favourite colour. Kaneki doesn’t need a lovely chat over a hot cup of anything. Kaneki needs _help_.

Kaneki is lying on the ground, Kaneki is scared, Kaneki is in _pain_ , and you find him a blue fucking mug.

Because blue was Kaneki’s favourite colour.

But Kaneki doesn’t know that. Kaneki, here, now, doesn’t know much at all. Hide doesn’t know why, can’t even begin to count any possibilities, and he may never find out.

“Stupid,” Hide curses through gritted teeth, a sudden pain constricting his heart and crawling up his throat. No, it isn’t sudden. This pain sits inside of him always, like a bear lightly sleeping in the cave of Hide’s body, and it is a constant worry to not disturb it. “S-Stupid, stupid, stupid,” He insults. Not for the first time, he feels a need to counter this strange choke-hold from within.

He brings a hand up, and hits the ball of it to his forehead, _hard_.

“Such an idiot,” Hide sobs, and strikes again. And again. Again.

He can’t do anything right for him. When has he ever? How could he have thought he could? He let this happen. _He could have done something_.

Kaneki doesn’t need Hide.

Kaneki needs help.

Hide stops the assault on himself when he feels a grip on his pants. His open hand is shuddering close to his face, so ready for another painful yet reliving strike.

A hand, a frail, dirty hand, rests on his knee lightly.

Kaneki is looking at him. Hide doesn’t know with what expression, only one eye peeks from the walls of his arms, but it has changed from the stress-filled one from before.

Hide notices he has to calm his breathing. He is panting hard. He looks at the eye and brings his hand from his face to the hand on his leg.

The hand grips Hide’s pants harder, and a whine fills the room again.

“Sorry, buddy,” Hide eventually says, for multiple reasons. Hide calms down while stroking over the knuckles of Kaneki’s hand with his thumb. Kaneki’s hand loosens its hold just a bit.

…

…

“…Hi…de.”

And Hide’s breathe stops all together.

Kaneki mumbles it through his arms, but Hide hears it like train passing his window. His name has never sent such an emotion through him. Never have those two syllables ever held so much importance.

Hide loosens his grip on Kaneki’s hand when he notices how hard he is suddenly holding it, and he nods his head many times.

“Yeah, that’s right man,” Hide shows a shaking smile, “Hide, remember?” and wipes stray, wet tears from his cheeks.

It is like this, hardly keeping a sob at bay and feeling a bruise appearing on his forehead, that Hide makes a promise to Kaneki on the floor, and to himself. He will never hurt himself in front of Kaneki again, because Kaneki will never experience or witness such terrible things from here onward. Never.  Never ever, he thinks. The world could end, and Hide will make sure Kaneki has the safest, warmest seat for it.

Hide will help him. He doesn’t know how, but he will. For as long as he can. He feels that determination building when he thought it was lost forever, buried under piles of weights that seemed important just yesterday and now redundant as he looks into those grey eyes, now two of them peeking.

Kaneki seems to get his own determination to sit up from the carpet and onto his knees, a little bit wobbly.

Hide helps to steady him but his fingers only lightly brush Kaneki’s shoulder. A feather could have been tougher.

“Hey, Kaneki,” Hide’s smile is shaking less and less,” Let’s get you cleaned up.” The layers of dirt and substances unknown (as much as Hide wishes he did) clinging to the skin of his friend has never left his mind. Each patch of persistent grime is like a teasing puzzle piece. The prize if one where to connect those dots? Knowing where Kaneki might have been these past six months. Maybe, Hide dares, what had happened. But the dust and dirt only teases, because Hide will never know.

Kaneki twitches and he brings a hand to his hair to scratch at it. Not an eerie, concerning scratch like twice before, but a genuine itch to the back of his head, like only in verbally mentioning his appearance does he realise how uncomfortable he is.

Hide takes it as a desperate conformation. They say actions speak louder than words, and Hide hopes it’s true.

Hide stands before helping Kaneki to, and Kaneki is calmer now as he complies. Whatever Hide did to cause such a thrash before must have washed over by now. He is glad for that, and takes Kaneki’s hand, all his tears now dry.

“Ok, watch your step this time, man. And don’t worry; in the bathroom you can actually see the floor.”

And Hide is right. Why would he lie? The bathroom is shining when he leads Kaneki through the door, one of two in the room. This is one of those bathrooms that try and give you the illusion of it being an en suite, so it connects to both the bedroom and the living room. It’s a western style bathroom too, with a hybrid of a bath and shower. The curtain is an ugly green.

Hide stops them in the middle of the small room, and lets out a deep breath as he closes the door, because this is going to be a little awkward.

First, the water.

Kaneki takes in the new, very white room as Hide leans over and across the bath to mess with the taps. The water is a loud mini waterfall. He adds bubbles.

Everyone likes bubbles.

 “Ok, Kaneki, um…” Hide turns back to his unclean friend and finds him staring at the medicine cabinet mirror, a hand presses next to his reflected face.

Kaneki is looking into his own eyes. Hide doesn’t know that expression, but it makes him feel a pained sympathy, and he wants to get rid of it.

What he would do for a smile.

Hide kindly brings Kaneki’s attention back to him, well, his eyes are now on the bath but close enough.

Kaneki itches his head again.

“Soon you will be so clean it will be like you are reborn!” Hide says, but backtracks that statement, “Um, well, maybe not reborn. I mean, babies are pretty gross when they come out, you know. Yeah, you knew that.” He nervously rambles. “That should be enough.” And he turns off the taps.

The bath is half full, hot, and brimming with bubbles.

Second, clothes.

Hide makes short work of the jacket, one careful arm at a time, and he folds it to the side. The shirt is a different issue.

“I need you to put your hands up, man, just for a little bit.”

Kaneki, as Hide expected, doesn’t move. He looks at the bubbles with no expression.

Hide realises quickly that this isn’t going to happen without a whole lot of help. He gently grips Kaneki’s hands and raises them way over his white head.

“Ok, stay still.” Hide lets go of Kaneki.

And gravity does the rest. Kaneki’s arms are back by his sides before Hide can do more than grip the edges of the mangled shirt.

“Seriously?”

A brief idea to cut the shirt goes through Hide’s mind, but it is _very_ brief. No way is Hide going to bring sharp objects into this situation. What if Kaneki throws his arm out again?

So Hide tries again, and gets the shirt up to Kaneki’s armpits this time.

“Kaneki, you have got to help me out here…”

Hide’s fingers brush the sides of Kaneki’s ribs as he lowers the shirt back down, and Kaneki makes a noise in the back of his throat and his shoulders rise. Hide stops.

“Oh…?” Hide allows himself a smirk, because he knows that noise. Kaneki was holding back a laugh.

Hide lightly brushes the ribs again, and Kaneki again makes that slight choking, snort sound only louder. Kaneki raises his arms higher in an attempt to get away from the hands.

Hide forgot Kaneki was so ticklish.

“That’s it,” Hide almost giggles himself, “Just a little higher Kaneki.” Kaneki’s arms are high enough with one more brush of skin, and Hide tugs it over the mop of white hair quickly.

Hide bundles the rag into a ball and chucks it into the bin like a basketball player.

“Awesome! Ok, last bit.” The awkward bit.

Hide kneels down to the side of Kaneki, who is now rubbing at the side of his ribs. Hide grips the rim of Kaneki’s pants and underwear and at the same time pulls both down to the ankles.

Hide averts his eyes as much as he can from the parts he knew Kaneki would really rather him not see.

Because his friend is a shy man.

Lifting one leg at a time, slowly, Hide gets those rough pants off and into the bin in record time.

The rest should be easy, but Hide’s train of thought has yet to tell him how to get Kaneki _into_ the bath safely, and he grabs at the first idea. Just guide him into it.

Grabbing Kaneki’s hand securely in his, Hide tries to discreetly manoeuvre the dirty and unemotional man into the bath. He only gets as far as standing directly in front of it, and Kaneki pokes at the diminishing bubble population.

Hide sighs, and the next idea is to _lower_ him into the water.

“Kaneki I am gonna have to hold you for a bit, ok?” And he seems to be. He is in Hide’s hold, bridle style, easily and without much more than a whine and a shuffle.

“Ok, awesome.” Hide praises and he lowers himself and Kaneki down, Kaneki over the bathtub.

Kaneki’s eyes are suddenly wide and alert as he descends, and when his toes touch the water, he _screams_.

“ _HIDE_!”

Hide immediately reacts to the scared cry, and he drops backwards onto his butt with Kaneki tighter in his arms to his chest. Hide can feel his heart in his throat.

He did not expect that.

Kaneki has his fingers gripping the back of his shirt and his head pushes into his neck. He is breathing heavy.

Hide strokes Kaneki’s back, trying to sooth him. He doesn’t know if it works or not. He has no idea what has spooked him so much. Was it the water? The heat of it? Was the descent too fast?

“Hey, hey, _shhhh_ , it’s ok.” Hide tries, still brushing Kaneki’s back with the lightest touch. “You can do this, dude. It’s just water.”

It takes a while, so long Hide can’t feel his legs, but Kaneki uncurls from Hide. Kaneki looks to the white tile floor, and Hide considers postponing the bath. But he can’t. Kaneki is uncomfortable, it’s clear, and they have come so far.

Hide’s next idea works. He tests the water before Kaneki.

He takes off his shoes, socks and pants and makes sure Kaneki is watching when he gets into the bath. Ankle deep, he shows an exaggerated smile and gestures to himself in the bath.

“See? All ok!”

Next Hide brings Kaneki’s hands to the water and gives them a wash. Kaneki doesn’t scream, he only musters a muffled and confused whine. After that, it is just a matter of small steps, deliberately controlled movements and small tests filled with reassurance.

Kaneki sits in the warm water, and his face is worth it all. A small smirk, Hide thinks he can see, and half lidded eyes. He moves his hands in the water. He doesn’t hide how much he likes the warmth.

Hide starts wiping a cloth with soap over Kaneki’s back as Kaneki messes with the bubbles. He pokes them, slaps them, and pushes them and anything else that will make them ‘ _pop_!’.

Best invention ever, bubbles are.

Hide washes Kaneki’s feet; the feet he had woken up to this afternoon.

Hide is sitting to the side of the bath with no pants on, and he rubs small circles over the patches of grime. As he does, he notices most of those patched are blood. Dried blood and/or dark blood mixed with dirt. As he puts shampoo into his hair, it is blood matting it together.

“Kaneki…” Hide feels the need to address in a hushed tone and his eyebrows are knitted with deep concern, but within a second he forces the expression away with a flash of a smile when he sees the half-glance Kaneki gives him.  

Kaneki’s hair is longer than Hide remembers last.

The bath takes a long while, partly because of how much mess there is, and partly because of how light Hide is using the cloth and rubbing at Kaneki’s hair.

Getting Kaneki out is almost as tricky as getting him in, because now Kaneki doesn’t want to leave the warmth. But draining the water is found to be the solution.

Drying is simple for the both of them and soon Kaneki stands with no patches of blood and dirt and other unnamed substances but with pale skin from head to toe and pure hair now fluffy and reaching in all directions from a mad Hide with a towel. 

Hide looks around for the next step planned and could hit himself for being so stupid, but he doesn’t, of course.

“Right, new clothes. Damnit.”

He opens the door to his bedroom and steam follows him like a ghost as he looks around his floor for relatively clean clothes that would fit Kaneki. There is no point looking in his closet.

He keeps one eye on the bathroom at all times as he picks out pants, underwear and a long sleeved shirt from his dimly lit bedroom. The sun is setting already.

“Hope these fit.” Hide murmurs more to himself as he shuffles back into the bathroom. Kaneki hasn’t moved his feet an inch in any direction. Hide supposes that’s a good thing, but he is everything but ecstatic about his friend’s lack of independent movement.

Hide puts the clothes on Kaneki in the opposite order he took them off. Underwear first, one foot in at a time, three quarter, dark green pants next and that smooth top that easily slips on. They fit, though the shirt is a little bit big. Hide hasn’t failed to notice how thin Kaneki has gotten. He can see his ribs.

“Did it!” Hide says, and raises Kaneki’s arm for him to give a high-five. The lightest, most gentle high-five either will ever know.

* * *

 

 _‘A clean room is a clean mind’_ is what his mother used to say. Hide never quite understood this. One’s mind and one’s surroundings are two completely different things, and people don’t spend their whole week locked in their bedroom, they spend their days in all sorts of places. Usually. So to suspect someone’s mind is a mess because their room is a mess is like suggesting a man with a hood is a mugger.

But now, Hide, scrubbing away at mugs and plates and mugs again, supposes that there was some truth behind his Mother’s warning. She just got it the wrong way around.

Hide’s mind hasn’t been in the best of shape lately, and, stupidly, he is only now coming to realise this. All it took was someone else for Hide to look out for besides himself, and suddenly he saw everything wrong with how he is living. Because now Kaneki has to live here too.

Kaneki, last Hide checked (about three minutes ago) is sitting on the brown couch looking at the wall in the living space. In front of him is a delightfully noticeable blue carpet and freshly wiped down coffee table. Not a folder in sight because they are now packed in a box just underneath the coffee table. Perfect fit, really.

“Last one.” Hide sighs with a smile, and gives the cup one last rub of the cloth before sitting it aside to naturally dry with the rest. He pulls the plug out with an exaggerated tug and wipes his hands dry on his pants.

“Finally! Two rooms down. Now to the bedroom.” But first, check Kaneki again.

Hide walks to the living space just through the archway and is unsurprised that Kaneki still sits on the couch. His eyes move around the room, as if assessing every tiny detail, before resting again on the cream wall. Hide again wishes he knew what Kaneki is thinking.

Hide walks past the couch to his bedroom door, and he doesn’t try to hide the large yawn. He has been tired since he woke up, after all. He is surprised he has survived this long.

The sun is down now, and he flicks on the lights. And groans.

How had he lived this long? He could get lost in there, seriously. He might lose Kaneki again in his own house.

“Hey, Kaneki, you know you can jump in and help at any time.” Hide turns back to the white haired man.

Kaneki, hearing Hide or not, turns his head away.

“No? Ok…” Hide smirks at either Kaneki’s mood or good timing, and ploughs his way into the room.

He starts sorting his clothes out first; the dirty in one pile, the wearable in another. He spreads his sheets back onto his bed and practically rakes up the empty cans, paper plates and take-out containers.

He is complete depleted of energy by the time his room looks reasonable, and he is too scared to check the time. Good thing tomorrow is Sunday. Or maybe it’s Sunday now. Hide doesn’t care.

Hide realises with a start that he hasn’t checked on Kaneki since he started cleaning his room like a mad man. He sprints with no obstacles back to the living space, and relaxes with what he faces.

Kaneki is curled up on the couch, knees to his chest and arms under his head like a pillow. He face is bliss and his eyes are closed. His breathing is even.

Hide collects his Grandmother’s quilt (nicely folded on a shelf) and tucks Kaneki in gently as to not wake him.

“G’night, ‘Neki.” Hide yawns. “Sweet dreams.”

He leaves his bedroom door open to the living space. The same blue carpet covers his floor, he admires. And though that too needs a clean, it is the _only_ thing on the floor. Hide has a smooth walk to his bed, and, if he wanted, a smooth trip to the bookshelf in the corner.

A bookshelf stuffed with books, head to toe. It is dark brown and slim. There are even books atop the shelf, not quite reaching the ceiling, all about the hardships of life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to hear your thoughts I am sure they are awesome. Likes, dislikes, a poop emoji I don't care.


	3. Worries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY. LATE. CHRISTMAS.  
> Damn I am late. I guess this can be a Christmas and Happy New Year gift. 
> 
> Speaking of gifts, Hide gets Kaneki a present in this chap! Will he like it?!?! Read on to find out...

Best sleep of his entire life. He fell into slumber like you would a pool of water, and he surfaces just as the sun hits his face. He wakes with a stretch and spreads out his body with a sigh.

When had he last gotten a sleep like that? Must have been years.

Hide finds he is still dressed in his clothes from yesterday and naturally deems them wearable for the morning as well. He walks out of his room rubbing his eyes.

He abruptly stops when he reaches the living space, because something is very wrong. He looks over the couch which is holding the lovely grandmothers quilt, but it is a quilt with no Kaneki.

Best-sleep-turned-worst-nightmare, Hide calls Kaneki’s name with a hope that the man will come out from hiding.

Not a stir to be seen or heard.

With Hide’s heart racing like a hamster in a wheel, he sprints the small way to the kitchen. Upon no direct sight of his friend, he looks behind the island counter, under the table for two, cupboards, even in the _fridge_ , but no Kaneki.

Hide grips his hair in alarm.

“Ok, Ok, calm down…” Hide takes a deep breath and exhales, which ultimately does nothing for his panic, “He has to be here.” He checks if the front door is locked. It is. All the windows are fine.

And then the phone rings.

Hide almost dies of a heart attack at the demanding, shrill sound that does nothing for his peaking stress. He checks the caller ID and quickly and decides to take it. It’s work, so shouldn’t be long. Just some more insistent reminders about his over-due load. In all honesty he is surprised he hasn’t been fired. He is sure a few people want him to be.

He continues to search his house as he engages in the conversation half-heartedly.

“Hey, Amon, what’s up?” Hide tries to keep his voice as normal as possible. He checks behind the couch.

“ _Nagachika, are you going to get here soon?”_

Hide pauses the search in the middle of the living space. It is Sunday, isn’t it? No work, or school for that matter. Is he so far gone he doesn’t know what day it is? Maybe that great sleep entailed 24 hours. Not having a calendar on hand, he asks his colleague.

“ _Yes, don’t worry it is Sunday. I’m not calling to talk about work. I’m talking about the lunch we organised.”_

Oh.

Wait, what?

“ _You don’t remember, do you?”_ Amon sighs. It isn’t a disapproving sigh, or disappointed. It sounds tired, saddened, and Hide might have felt bad about it if he wasn’t so preoccupied. But he listens as he removes the quilt from the couch and he remembers nodding to something or rather a few days ago.

“No, no I remember.” Hide insists, grunting as he lowers himself to look in a low cabinet a friend of his might be able to fit into. “With you aaand….”

“ _Seidou_.”

“R-Right, and Seidou.” Hide mindlessly nods, walking into his bedroom. He has to say he is at a loss right now with both his friends, the one on the phone and the one god knows where. Hide is stressing big time.

_“Is this a bad time?”_

_Yes!_

“No.” And he sits on his bed with as little of a sigh as he can. “Sorry I can’t come to the lunch, Amon. I don’t feel well.” It is a lie, but at the same time it’s an understatement.

He lays his back on his bed. Well, he tries to, but a large, hard lump stops him from descending far.

The lump whines.

“Oh my God!” Hide jumps back to his feet not unlike a pole-vaulter and turns to face a small hill in his quilt. The quilt moves, and Hide’s heart begins to slow when he sees white hair peeking.

“ _Hide? Hide, are you alright?!”_ It’s Seidou on the phone now. He must have stolen it from Amon. “ _What happened_?”

“I’m fine, Seidou. Just sick.” Hide reassures. He is sure people scream to the lord when they are sick, right? Idiot. But his mind isn’t with the conversation. It wasn’t when he picked up the phone. 

Hide sits on a part of the bed not occupied by Kaneki, having lost his strength to stand with all the relief.

 “Sorry I can’t come.” And, maybe too abruptly (but also too relived to care), he hangs up the phone.

Kaneki doesn’t move much more.

 “Dude, you can’t do that to me.” Hide says to the tuffs of hair, and he hardly stops himself from hugging the ball of quilt and man. In his bed. How didn’t he notice?

Why is Kaneki in his bed?

“Was the couch not warm enough?” Hide asks, but knows he has to come to a conclusion on his own. He brings the quilt back further until he sees a face.

Kaneki is awake and curled up on the mattress. He takes up little space like this, so maybe that is how Hide failed to find out there were two people in a bed made for one.

Has he been there all night?

Most of the questions in his mind will never be answered, not until the man in question has the ability to speak more than one word.

How Hide misses the conversations.

Having found Kaneki safe, Hide resumes his morning. He makes coffee, and again, he makes two cups of it in the freshly dried and clean mugs. They are both red.

He places them on the coffee table lightly. He sits on the couch with a ‘ _flop’_ and brings the coffee to his lips. The other mug stays on the table, patient.

He doesn’t expect Kaneki to come out of the bedroom so quickly, but the man drags himself and half the bedding into the living room. Maybe it was the smell of the hot drink, maybe it’s because Hide already woke him up by nearly sitting on him. Hide cringes at that reminder.

“Morning.” Hide says casually, and Kaneki heavily lands his butt onto the floor not too far away from the coffee table and Hide. He looks at the wall, or the window. Hide is still deciding which.

Hide moves Kaneki’s mug closer to him. Just in case.

“Did you want to sleep in my bed from now on? I can take the couch.” Hide sips from his mug.

Kaneki doesn’t move, make a sound, anything. He breathes. The quilt and sheets hang over his thin shoulders.

Hide wonders how much Kaneki understands now. He has no way of knowing, but between the lack of movement, communication and incomprehensibly strange actions, he doubts Kaneki knows much of what goes on around him. But this is a thought about a reality that seems so very surreal. Kaneki, hardworking college student, shy but ambitious, binge-reader with a mind that could near inhale the words and knowledge off of any page, great talker and best friend to be around…

Kaneki now looks at the red coffee mug on the table; still hot but cooling quickly.  

_What happened to you?_

“Do you want some? I’ve gotten better at making coffee, since you’ve been...” _Gone_ , but Hide doesn’t finish. He doesn’t want to.

Kaneki’s eyes don’t move back to the wall as Hide expects, they stay on the mug, and Hide realises he may need some help. Like the bath, Kaneki can’t do this by himself. So he puts his own warm drink down and kneels on the floor next to his sitting friend.

Hide picks Kaneki’s cup up and carefully brings it closer to the pale face. Not too close. He doesn’t want it to poor onto Kaneki if he isn’t ready to drink it.

Kaneki stays still, eyes pinned to where the coffee used to be on the wooden furniture like his mind hasn’t caught up to the fact that it has moved. Hide worries that this assumption is correct.

He softly coxes Kaneki into noticing the mug in front of his face by talking and subtly moving the drink.

Hide slowly, slowly, lifts the coffee to partly open lips. He positions Kaneki’s head a little bit higher with his other hand so the liquid can go down his throat.

Hide realises a mug may not be the easiest thing to drink out of too late.

Some of the coffee gets into Kaneki’s mouth, but most of it fails to do its job and runs down his chin and then down his neck. Kaneki’s eyes change suddenly from uninterested to wide in alarm as Hide fusses over apologies and brings the mug away.

Kaneki screams.

He doesn’t scream a name or a comprehensible word; it is just a loud, terrified cry, and it’s the only sound that could tear at Hide’s heart this much.

Hide stills, shocked beyond immediate reaction as Kaneki wails right in front of him. Now the man is clinging to himself in a hug that’s too desperate, trying and succeeding in becoming smaller and smaller, closer to the carpet of pale blue.

“K-Kaneki-“ Hide takes hold of himself once more and raises his shaking arms, hoping to do something, _anything_ , to cease the hysterics. But he doesn’t; he finds he can’t. Was it the heat of the coffee? Maybe the taste was too strong.

Kaneki now has his forehead to the floor and Hide’s arms hover just shy of Kaneki’s fragile, shaking back as he franticly contemplates what went so wrong.

Hide’s breath is uneven and rapid.

The mug was dropped and disregarded on the carpet, the coffee staining as much as the experience.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know, really,” Hide doesn’t fully know what he is saying; the words pour out, desperate and fast. And he continues to do so, staying by Kaneki’s side until he can calm down.

Maybe it lasts for hours, maybe it was seconds, Hide wouldn’t be surprised either way with his state of a frighted and concerned mind, but Kaneki eventually stills and quietens. When he does, his knuckles are as white as the hair they tightly grasp, as if the weak strands were his only life-line in a world gone horribly wrong.

Little comes to Hide in terms of what to do and say. His hand automatically and softly caresses the top of Kaneki’s firm but frail back. He tells himself the touch is to let Kaneki know he is here and not alone, but the feel of Kaneki’s slower breathing calms Hide down somewhat as well. Maybe even more so.

Hide hopes it is the rubbing of Kaneki’s back that allows the fingers to loosen their deathly grasp, because that would mean he had done something right to appease the wrong. His action in truth may have been nothing more than a fly’s touch, annoying more than anything, but either way Hide is relieved Kaneki is uncurling himself. Calming. Breathing. Soon he is sitting on his knees, like Hide, and looking at the very empty red mug.

Hide dares to wipe the tears from his friends face, slowly, gently. Kaneki doesn’t look at him.

Hide thinks about picking up the mug, about taking it to the sink, but doesn’t move. A room apart is too far away at the moment.

Hide feels a weight on his shoulders as he wipes tears from Kaneki’s face he is all too aware he caused. This weight is heavy now, heavier than any he has ever felt in his life before this moment. It teases his muscles, something powerful, because he is the only person, the only one who remains in Kaneki’s life. He is the only one who can help him, clean him, make him laugh, and the only one in his world now whose actions can affect him so profoundly to tears. Hide is feeling that tone of responsibility squeeze his shoulders with an unhealthy, unwavering grip. This grip has claws too now, needles of guilt, because Hide had failed to make Kaneki’s day wonderful like it should be.

It hurts, from his head to his heart, but it should, Hide knows all too well.

Hide picks up the mug of red silently. He walks slowly to the kitchen but plans to come back much quicker. He can’t leave for too long; the reasons are abundant. He pours his own coffee down the drain, having lost the appeal.

The Sunday didn’t get much better after their morning.

Later, as Kaneki sits on the couch as unmoving as a frail statue, Hide discovers he has time on his hands. His apartment is clean, and Kaneki needs nothing of him at the moment. He puts his newly cleaned desk/dining table to good use after he moves it from the kitchen to the living room with Kaneki. For the first time in forever, he actively does his college homework with little strain from his head.

Why had it been such a strain before? Hide idly wonders about himself. He loves what he is studying. That’s why he chose these classes. Idiot.

He comes across something he doesn’t understand and writes it on a separate pad of paper for future study. The work consists of readings and reviews. He knows an essay is due in a week, and pins the reminder onto a pin board overhead. Easy.

Hide rolls his shoulders, tense since the day he was born, and takes a peek over them to the couch.

Kaneki has decided to lie on his side and his eyes are closed. Hide softly smiles and feels his shoulders relax just a bit. At least Kaneki feels safe enough in the house to sleep.

He spies the coffee stains on the collar of the white shirt and the smile runs away.

But then it comes back, half-heartedly, because Hide gets an idea; one that would stop the accident from this morning from ever repeating. It is genius.

But he needs to get to the shops. Is it really ok to leave Kaneki alone? The man is asleep, but Hide doesn’t know how deep a sleeper he is anymore. He had gotten up last night, obviously.

Needing all the facts to make the decision, Hide digs out his phone from the pants he slept in. He researches just how far the nearest store selling what he needs is. God bless Google Maps.

Five minutes walking. Ok, two minutes if he ran, and he will. That’s four minutes there and back. Oh, wait, about six to actually _get_ what he needs and go back…idiot.

He looks to Kaneki again. He’s sleeping as if the definition of peace, hopefully deeply. He has a slight twitch, but no body’s perfect. He could go alone for six minutes. This trip is for him after all.

“I’ll be right back, Kaneki.” Hide explains, leaving his desk and draping Kaneki’s quilt over the unconscious man. He puts a coat on himself, opens the front door and steps backwards into the cold. His eyes don’t leave Kaneki until he is looking at the wood of the closed door in front of him.

Like he promised, he runs. He dashes through crowds (almost over people) and slips twice as he skids around corners before he is panting in front of his large, desired store.

He stops running, and jogs up and down the aisles. This place has _everything_ on top of its clean, white, slippery tiled floor. Finally (he is notably going over-time) Hide finds the right line of products.

As he stands, panting, he hopes Kaneki won’t find this idea degrading in anyway.

The baby aisle.

Let him explain: A mug is too hard to drink out of by himself, then so is anything else Hide has in his cupboards. It seems Kaneki can’t pick it up if he wanted a sip then and there anyway, be it water or a lovely cup of coffee. So, what is a drinking tool especially designed for a helper? Designed for someone that can’t pick up a drink without spilling it? A sippy-cup! Genius, I say.

He picks a blue one. There are many in that colour, and pink.

With the one plastic item in hand, he jogs/runs/skips awkwardly to the cash register.

There is a line for the only two registers open.

Dammit.

Now filled with anxiety of being late on his own schedule, Hide fidgets in the shortest line. He jumps from foot to foot, and he certainly doesn’t fail to notice the man in front of him and his rather large basket of items. He gets his wallet out to be ready, as something to do.

_Come on, come on, come on!_

Is Kaneki ok?

Has he woken?

Is he wondering why he is alone in the house?

Is he cold?

“Next, thank you.” But the cashier needn’t say. Hide jumps in front of her register and hands the cup over.

“Just this, please!”

She is momentarily startled at the sudden cup in front of her face, but she takes it. Not as quickly as Hide would have wanted. Her movements are sluggish, he notes. A snail compared to Hide’s insistent fidgeting behind the counter.

“So, just this…?” She asks with a raised eyebrow and Hide makes an effort to hold back the groan of frustration. Now is not the time to be judgmental. It’s not the weirdest thing for a teen to buy.

“Yes, yes, just that!”

“Ok, ok,” She says, as if trying to calm him down even a bit. But as she slowly, slowly, makes an effort to scan the cup, Hide does the exact opposite. He stresses more, and vows to next time google the stores _with_ self-serves.

 _Beep_.

“952 Yen, thank you.”

Much to the amazement of the cashier, Hide places a thousand, grabs the cup, and runs.

That took too much time. He has been gone ten minutes already.

Sometime between getting back to his apartment and his racing thoughts, Hide started to slow his running for two reasons. He is breathing too hard and his legs are slightly screaming, and a thought strikes him, invades his over whelming stress with some reason to ponder instead.

Maybe Kaneki is awake again now, maybe even sitting up. But is this really a case for so much concern? He would just sit there, if past experience was anything to learn from. Furthermore, as Hide fears Kaneki may have another panic attack, the past has also taught him that the three times Kaneki has had any sort of panic attacks were Hide-induced. He was the one to start all of them.

Maybe Hide is worrying too much. Maybe he is over reacting. He would hate that; to smother Kaneki when it isn’t needed. That could bring a negative affect for the both of them.

Maybe being out of the house is good for Kaneki.

So Hide slows to a walk, the blue sippy-cup swinging in his hand by his side, and tries to think about that.

Twenty minutes after he had closed it, Hide opens the front door. The first thing he picks up is a sound more than a sight. It is sickening.

_Bang._

And Hide regrets leaving in a way he has never felt so strongly.

Because the sound is a head meeting a desk in aguish, in desperation for something Hide has no knowledge of. Kaneki has a grip on the side of the desk Hide was working on, and his back is tensed and hunched in a way Hide thought would be impossibly painful.

He drops the cup when Kaneki cries out, a gargled cry from the back of his throat. 

“Kaneki! Stop, stop! It’s ok!” But the shout and a hand to his shoulder does nothing, he doesn’t even notice it. His hand may as well been air on his skin, his voice a hundred miles away.

Kaneki’s head hits the wood again, and Hide hears a splitting sound that he prays is the table.

Kaneki’s grip becomes tighter, and so does Hide’s.

“S-Stop! Calm down, please!” Hide begs. He thinks he can hear words coming out of Kaneki’s mouth as his head doesn’t leave the hard wood. A please, a stop. A number. Hide doesn’t make sense of any of it. Kaneki is breathing so hard.

Kaneki  raises his head again, and Hide grabs both sturdy shoulders.

“No, Kaneki, s-stop this, please! Calm down, you are ok, you ar-,“ But he can see nothing getting through.

So, before Kaneki hurts himself again, Hide plants one of his hands on the table where he is going to hit. He can at least soften the blow for him.

Kaneki bows his head again with a choked cry, and hits Hide’s hand with force.

Hide’s lasting hand on Kaneki’s shoulder squeezes tight and he cuts off his cry as the pain is astounding. Again he hears a splitting sound. He hadn’t realised how hard the blow was going to be, but he doesn’t care.

Kaneki’s head doesn’t move.

“I-It’s ok, Kaneki,” Hide tries again, and rubs at his back again, “You’re ok, you’re ok,” he plans to continue for as long as it takes.

Kaneki is crying, Hide notices as his hand becomes wet. And so was himself.

Kaneki’s breath becomes less forceful and desperate and more shallow as he begins to sob.

“..Hi..de..”

“It’s ok, you’re safe, we’re safe,” Hide strokes his back smoothly, lightly, and he thinks it works. He thinks it helps. Kaneki’s back slowly returns from a painful bend to a natural arch. His sobs still rake his body, but are few and far between.

Hide does this for twenty minutes before Kaneki’s hands let go, and his head raises.

Kaneki doesn’t meet Hide’s eye. He never does. He looks ahead of him, at the wall the desk presses against. Hide gives a last reassuring rub of his back.

“Better?” Hide asks. He doesn’t get an answer, but he didn’t need to question it anyway. He knew, by the calmed breathing, the straight back, the eyes he can only just see, that Kaneki was ok now.

Hide slowly, gently, lifts his hand from the desk. A bruise is already showing itself but Hide can feel the damage is a lot worse than that, and the desk is very much split.

He stars at the cracks in the hard wood and wonders what could have caused such an attack. He can only wonder so far, because he was defiantly not here when Kaneki woke up.

He should have been.

Absolute idiot.

Hide hisses at the pain, “H-Hey, want to sit on the couch? I got you something.”

He ends up moving Kaneki himself by taking a hand and letting him follow to the couch. Kaneki complies with not even a sound. His face looks sadder than Hide last saw, but his head is apparently unharmed. That is a relief.

They sit on the couch, and Hide finds the quilt tossed on the floor. Kaneki has his hands by his sides gripping the couch and his head down. He looks like a child who was found doing something wrong, Hide compares. But he has done nothing wrong at all. He could never be more than a victim.

Hide gets up and retrieves the plastic cup from the floor by the door. He looks at it for a while longer than necessary with a wrinkled brow. He forces the frown into a small smile before turning back to Kaneki, holding the cup up almost with joy.

“Here, this is what I got for you. I hope it will help.” He shows it to his friend, but Kaneki’s head is still down and staring at the stained carpet. Hide’s strained smile drops slowly, and he takes in a breath to let back out steadily.

Hide wishes Kaneki would answer.

But how selfish a request that was, and he feels his throat tighten in disgust.

He puts the cup in the high kitchen cupboard for later. Now is not the time, he realises. Maybe tomorrow.

Hide makes his way back to the living room, and doesn’t know how to feel about Kaneki being asleep again. Kaneki twitches, and looks like he more passed-out than drifted off into unconsciousness willingly. As much as Hide wishes him sweet dreams and imagines Kaneki having a peaceful sleep, this is not the reality, Hide realises.

Hide walks to the side of the couch and kneels next to that face. As he looks at Kaneki with pity he had no right to, Hide chokes on a sob he can’t fully keep down.

“Please don’t hurt yourself,” He begs in whispers, because that is all he can muster right now. “Please don’t do that again.”

He takes Kaneki to his bed, as he had promised to give him that morning. He would give him anything. He carries Kaneki with one arm under the back of his knees, and the other supporting his back. He struggles just a bit with that hand he is now positive is fractured, but he pays the pain little mind.

Tucking Kaneki in is nice. Like a perfectionist, he makes sure all but his head is showing, so everything will be warm. He pushes the unruly strands of hair away from Kaneki’s open mouth.

“Good night, Kaneki.” Hide says, walking to the door backwards as he talks. Kaneki’s head moves to the side, but he doesn’t wake.

Hide leaves the door between them open again and gets comfortable on the couch with his grandmothers quilt.

“Sweet dreams…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like this. It took a while I am sorry. All my planning got deleted by the way. Sobs. But i think i know where this is going now :D Yay for me.
> 
> I love to hear your thoughts! They are amazing. Thank you so much for everyone who has reviewed, I usually don't make it past chapter one....  
> 


	4. Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the beginning I had a few excesses as to why i hadn't updated. I moved house twice in two months and started Uni. Suddenly i was living on my own with a tone of homework.
> 
> Anyway, hope this is an alright chapter. My writing style kind of changed throughout the year, so there may be a sudden change halfway through. Sorry.

Hide awakes heavy. How strange.

He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, and a weight on his chest is making it somewhat hard to breath properly. Something of an alikeness to weightless threads tickles his nose, and he wrinkles it with one of the many sounds people make when waking up. Annoyed.

It takes some effort to pry his tired eyes open, but his lids finally rise slowly, like rusted garage doors. The sudden assault of white in his face gives him everything he needs to piece together what is going on, and it’s very unexpected.

Kaneki is lying on top of him. On the couch.

Hide closes his eyes again, and smiles.

“Just can’t decide between the couch and the bed, can you...?” He mumbles.

Surprisingly, Kaneki ‘ _humms’_ in a sort of response, Hide guesses, and, for lack of a better word, snuggles closer to Hide. Quite a feat for someone who is already a human blanket. However, Kaneki is breathing smoothly, rhythmically, as a sign he is still very much asleep.

Hide supposes, unless he is missing something, that Kaneki can take the couch back the coming night.

“Good morning.” Hide tries again, but wants very much to go to sleep like this. With a quilt still on him, and on top of that Kaneki, he is very _very_ warm.

 _Oh. Warm_ , Hide remembers. _He wants the heat. I am just a heat bag._ He barks a laugh.

“You flatter me.” He says, and rubs Kaneki’s back after prying his good hand from under the quilt.

With Kaneki asleep, and Hide as comfortable as he ever thought possible, he could have laid there all day long. There is but one problem with this plan.

Today is Monday. Hide’s moment of peace gives way to anxious thoughts the instant he realises.

He has to leave Kaneki again. He has to go to work. He strokes Kaneki’s back more, taking his own small comfort in the soothing motion and the reminder Kaneki is really there, but also needing him to wake up and move. But his touch is only light. Because waking Kaneki up, in reality, is the last thing he wants to do.

“Kaneki, hey, I need you to move now man.” Hide whispers to the hair in his face. “I need to go out for a bit…”

He considers calling in sick. He had told Amon on the phone he wasn’t feeling well, so it might be believable. There are a few, ever so _small_ risks to this plan, however. One is he gets his ass fired. He knows he hasn’t done his work up to standard, if at all, and being let-go after being absent entirely isn’t an out-there assumption to make. Another risk is his colleges get worried about his declining health and ultimately come to visit him. At his home. That is something he can’t see going well in any sense.

So he looks at Kaneki again (well, his hair) and rubs his back harder. He stops talking in whispers.

“Come on, sleepy head. I need to make money.”

Kaneki makes one of the most amusing sounds Hide has ever heard coming out of that mouth, and Hide holds back his chuckle for Kaneki’s dignity. The head rises, and Hide can finally see those tired eyes, though they face away from his.

“Sorry, man.” Hide says with little sympathy. “Next time don’t lie in top of me, ok.”

With maneuvering skills of the first degree, Hide sits the both of them up on the couch. Kaneki still looks so tired and his white hair is everywhere. But Hide guesses he himself doesn’t look too much better.

Shaking the last of the persistent quilt off of his legs, Hide goes into the kitchen as per routine. He gets one green mug and that one lone, blue plastic cup. Hide feels exited to try it out, but as he holds the light weight thing in his hand and puts it on the counter reminders of what had transpired to get it bring a small frown to his face. He doesn’t spend much time making the coffee.

He tries his best to cool Kaneki’s coffee down quickly to an easily drinkable temperature, and his stomach is knotting in anticipation.

Putting the lid on the cooled cup peaks his excitement and expectations. Today is the day Kaneki will have a nice (hopefully) cup of coffee for the first time in God knows how long, and he hopes he likes it.

He has to carry the coffees out one at a time. His hand hurts too much to hold anything as heavy as a drink.

“Here it is,” Hide shows a nervous smile to the man facing the ground, and holds the sippy-cup up. Hide _plops_ next to Kaneki, not worried about the lack of attention towards his announcement. But ultimately, he does need his attention for this to go smoothly, so he does the one thing he knows Kaneki seems to like.

Hide rubs the man’s back, over the T-shirt Hide now realises he needs to change, and holds the sippy-cup closer.

Kaneki raises his head, ever so slightly.

“Here you go, ‘Neki. When’s the last time you’ve had a nice hot cup of something?” Hide really wishes he knew just how long. He wishes he knew anything about Kaneki’s disappearance, even a small detail like that.

He has to raise Kaneki’s head for him with a hand gently caressing his pointed chin. He does this slowly as to not spook him. Hide is still very unsure what pushes Kaneki to hysterics and what doesn’t.

Biting his lip to keep the exited smile at bay until he is sure the cup will work, Hide brings it to Kaneki’s lips.

Kaneki looks at the ceiling now.

When the opening of the lid is safely between Kaneki’s lips, Hide holds his breath and pours a small mouthful out.

The coffee doesn’t spill, doesn’t seem to be too hot, and Kaneki’s stays peeking at the ceiling through tired eyes when Hide brings the cup away. Kaneki needs to swallow it himself. Hide can’t help with that, as much as he would.

And Kaneki does.

He swallows the drink easily and Hide barely holds back the squeak of joy when he sees Kaneki’s throat move.

Before he continues pouring the drink, he asks if it tastes alright. When Kaneki doesn’t move he brings the cup back to his mouth. He supposes it must taste ok. Kaneki isn’t spitting it out at least.

Hide does this for a long while, all the way to the last sip of (tasty) brown liquid, and he doesn’t care to take a peek at the time. He had a feeling he was going to be late to work today, may as well be fashionably so. He will think of an excuse on the way.

All the while Hide stares at the cup he is securing so carefully, and his bruised hand starts burning with a reminder.

He shouldn’t go. His stomach tugs at the thought of leaving Kaneki alone again, and his mind races with outcomes that could never be described as pretty.

Hide puts Kaneki’s empty cup on the coffee table slowly, and he stares at the floor to avoid it’s look. He puts a hand on Kaneki’s knee to gain his attention.

“Listen, man. I’m…” He inhales deeply and he squeezes his bad hand. The pain intensifies. “I am going to be gone for a little while. I need to go. I really don’t have a choice,” he explains to Kaneki, but voicing it out loud solidifies the reasons for himself. Not going will have consequences, some maybe unforeseeable, and Hide pictures a row of dominoes collapsing. Or perhaps a tower of shaking cards is a better description. The situation he is in is a fragile one, he knows. One wrong move could send them both falling. Though both would suffer, only Hide could ever be responsible.

His shoulders tense and the weight pushes on them more. He looks back to Kaneki, who is staring the opposite direction.

Hide wishes Kaneki would look at him, just once. And a smile. That would be nice to see again.

“Ok,” Hide nods, agreeing with his terms, “Off I go then.” It is strangely hard to stand from the couch, and he walks noticeably slowly to the front door. He is even slow getting his jacket on, like an awkward sloth that wears clothes. He turns back to Kaneki on the couch with a tense smile he doesn’t feel. “I will try to get off early, believe me. It usually works, if Akira is in a sympathetic mood.”

Then Kaneki does something strange, something he has never done since Hide bundled him up that night. Nor ever before that. He licks his lips, and clutches at his stomach. He groans softly, as if shy to let it out.

Hide slightly chuckles at the new, strange action despite himself, and says the first thing that comes to mind. “What, hungry are we?”

And the Hide shuts his stupid mouth, because Kaneki might be just that. No, most likely. Or a stomach ache, but Hide doubts it as soon as the thought crosses his path.

“I…see.” Hide awkwardly says. The air in the room has changed to something uncomfortable. “Kaneki, I will be back soon. I promise.” And he leaves the apartment.

Hide goes to work by bike, a special birthday present he has had for years. He gets on it with a pain in his chest as well as in his black and blue hand. It throbs badly. The hurt intensifies the further he peddles, and he doesn’t know if it’s real or in his head. It feels like a sweater’s thread is stuck in his front door, and the further he moves away the more he stretches; the more he becomes unravelled.

Having been reminded of food, he gets something quick to eat on the way. He hasn’t eaten for a long while, he realises, but forgetting this simple everyday task isn’t new in the slightest.

However, he didn’t just forget that Kaneki needs to eat. This fact has been a small, constant worry in the back of his head. He thought he had more time to think it over. He always thinks he has more time.

He arrives at work fifteen minutes later and locks his ride to a shiny bike-rack out the front of the aw-striking building. It had taken Hide a while to get over the CCG building’s amazing exterior. When he first started, he looked more at the dazzling skyscraper’s height then to where he was walking. He had found the bike-rack by almost flipping over it to say the least. He had been very excited to get to work, although he had a very different goal than any of his fellow colleagues.

Now, however, Hide walks into the building with only a glance to get through the right door, and instead of a will to work he plans to get out as quickly as possible.

The lobby is the only place in the building reflecting the inspiration of the exterior, Hide had quickly found out. It is vast and shining, and despite the overall purpose for this organisation, it felt rather friendly. To appeal to the public, Hide supposes.

Past the scanners that have always unnerved him and up the elevator a few stories, and you could suddenly confuse this building for any other office. Well, the position he was given was office work. At first he was the delivery boy, and he was surprised at how much he enjoyed it. He talked with many people and it was easy to worm information out of most of them. But two months ago, for whatever reason, he was assigned to work with (for) a number of investigators. Hide thought it was a pretty strange sort of promotion, but he also didn’t care where or with whom he was pushed to. It got him more pay for less hours, so no use complaining.

He walks past rows of computers on little walled-off desks. He sees a lot of faces, but doesn’t care to put names to them. He seeks out his desk and collapses in the chair once found. A sigh escapes him as he lands, heavy.

A number of flies are staked on the parts of his desk not occupied by his computer, and he can’t bring himself to count for fear of crying in public. He stars at them, and wonders if it’s even _possible_ to bring it all home in his backpack.

His job consist mostly on pieces of paper making it home, as Hide once put it himself. He types up and/or checks investigators field reports and puts them in the right places. Somewhere in that maze of a filing-cabinet is a home for everything, or grave. He also finds files when asked to, usually profiles of ghouls or people for investigations. When he learnt what was expected of him, he was quite excited to get started. It sounded like an immensely easier way to get information about his missing friend. And it was; new information about all sorts of cases passed over him every day. But no one spoke of ‘Eye-Patch’ or later, briefly, ‘Centipede’ at all. Sitting at this chair had been slowly killing his hope more than reviving it.

He now worries for Kaneki just as much as then. Things have changed so much for Hide in the last two days, but no one here would know. No one here knows Kaneki even exists, knows his struggle. Only Hide. He should be with him.

He finds he can’t read a word of the paper he has been staring at, and decides to at least turn on the computer. It buzzes before lighting up. The computer takes about three minutes to bring up the log-in screen, in which time Hide shifts in the usually comfortable chair. It’s now strikingly irritating to sit in. 

He doesn’t think of anything as he logs on, not even what he is typing, and brings up a blank document page to cover the big and bold CCG logo background, like countless times before. It is now a reflex.

Again, annoyingly so, he finds himself staring at a page. His fingers hover over the keys, but he has nothing to type. Frustrated, he looks at his wounded hand instead. It is very ugly, to put it lightly. Purple, blue, black and even a bit of green is growing to make a hideous kindergartener’s finger-painting on the back of his left hand. He looks at it, and considers getting it checked out.

“Wow, you should get that checked out…”

Hide jumps in his chair and spins it at the same time. A man with short brown hair stands at his side, hands up in defence. Hide must have just about hit him in fright.

“Seidou…” Hide sighs in relief, but for the life of him can’t remember who he thought to be scared of. “You scared me.”

“Yeah, um, sorry.” He carefully replies, lowering his hands. “Are you ok? What happened to your hand?”

“Um,” Hide stalls, caught so suddenly. “I just bumped it while cleaning. I don’t think it is serious.” He lies sweetly. Seidou looks unconvinced.

“It looks like you took a sledge hammer to your hand, Hide.” He says. It feels like it went that way too, but Hide thinks he would have much rather taken a sledge hammer instead.

Hide turns back to his desk with a small laugh, “Really, it’s fine.” Seidou’s eyes widen slightly. “What?”

“Oh, ah, nothing,” He acts like he is caught. “Just, I haven’t heard that in a while.”

Now Hide’s confused. “Heard what?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” Seidou insists, “It’s just been a while since I have heard you laugh.” He chuckles himself, as if it was silly to point out. “So, um, you feeling better? You said you couldn’t come to the lunch because you were sick.”

“Yeah I am feeling a lot better.” Hide says, feeling to opposite. “I needed the rest, that’s all.” He doesn’t take notice of which hand he uses to pick up one of the files, and hisses in pain before dropping it on the floor. The papers spread out at Seidou’s toes.

Seidou looks from the paper back to Hide, “You ‘ _don’t think it is serious’_ , huh?” Hide doesn’t answer, instead he bends to pick the sheets up. Seidou gets to it quicker. “You should get your hand checked out, Hideyoshi.” He says, and hands the file back. “I will tell your supervisor your injured.”

“Really?” Hide beams, taking the file back with is good hand. “Thanks!”

“In return,” Seidou continues, “You make it the next time we go out for lunch. When’s the last time you went out or some fun?”

Hide, again, doesn’t answer, and gets up from his chair. The promise of an early day is enough for him to nod at the condition, even though he doubts he will honour the agreement when it comes. In honestly, he doesn’t remember the last time he went out. But he can’t remember the last time he actually felt the want to either. Now is no different.

“Sure, no problem,” Hide smiles and grabs his bag off of the ground. He starts for the door and waves behind him, “See you later, then!” And leaves.

The infirmary is on the fifth floor. Hide gets into the elevator, happy to be in one so quickly after arriving. The doors close, and his finger hovers over button numbered ‘ ** _5_** ’. Hide frowns, deciding.

He presses the ground floor and waits.

* * *

 

Hide is panting when he locks his bike into place. He biked as fast as he could back to the apartment, and he is sure if he timed it he could call up world records. His legs burn as he ascends the concrete stairs.

Even as his body struggles the get enough breath, he almost holds it in anticipation and dread for the worst.

 _Is Kaneki ok_? The question has his head in a whirlpool of thoughts and worries, and it has been doing so since the door had closed this morning. It’s a stress he doesn’t think he can handle every day.

The key is pushed into the lock, and Hide opened the door.

“Kaneki? I’m home.” He calls, stepping into the apartment. He is immediately met with a problem.

Kaneki isn’t on the couch where he once left him. He isn’t in the living room at all, but Hide suspects finding him will be fairly simple. He seems to have left a trail of chaos.

The quilt is on the floor; the coffee table is on its side; the couch has moved slightly; and already Hide can see an even bigger mess beginning at the archway to the kitchen. He feels a little disheartened at the state of the apartment he had only just gotten into order, but his first thought is the state of Kaneki.

 _Did he have another attack_? Hide prays he didn’t. He follows the chaos to the kitchen.

Hide can’t find any draws that aren’t on the floor. The cutlery and towels are all over the floor and most of the cupboards are open. One cupboard door is completely off its hinges. Hide walks past and over all this without much of a thought, because he spots Kaneki in the corner.

To Hide’s relief, Kaneki doesn’t look as bad as the apartment does. He is simply sitting in the corner, knees to his chest as he stares at his mess. No scars, Hide checks, but he supposes a scar wouldn’t last long in his body.

“Hey man.” Hide greets, walking slow. Kaneki doesn’t look to him. “Did you have a party while I was gone?” He smiles.

Seeing Kaneki is fine, Hide’s body is losing its last bits of energy. Between his fatigued legs and tense shoulders, he couldn’t see a reason why he shouldn’t join Kaneki on the ground. So he does. Hide _plops_ next to his friend, and leans his back on the wall. He admires the destroyed kitchen with Kaneki, dreading the task of cleaning it, but also too tired to care.

“Did you not like my styling?” Hide jokes again. He gets no response, and the room is quiet.

He stays like this for a while, sitting silently on the floor with his best friend in his trashed apartment. He allows himself to close his eyes for a few seconds. He can only hear his and Kaneki’s breathing, and feel the throb of his hand. He finds he needs to calm down, the events of today still making his head spin.

‘ _Kaneki is fine_ ’ Hide had thought upon finding him unharmed in the kitchen, but this couldn’t be true. Kaneki isn’t fine. I wasn’t when he left this morning, nor when he went to sleep, nor when Kaneki was laying on the couch yesterday. How could Hide conclude Kaneki is fine, simply by his outer appearance? He can’t talk. Hide wouldn’t be surprised if Kaneki doesn’t even know he is sitting right next to him, because Kaneki can’t seem to respond.

He could be worse; the events yesterday remind him. But he is still far from fine.

Hide grits his teeth.

 _Idiot_.

Kaneki doesn’t move from his spot even an hour later, and although Hide is beyond drained, he forces himself to stand. Kaneki doesn’t look close to tired and Hide won’t go to bed till he is, so he musters up enough strength to start the picking up of kitchen wear until then. The draws are slowly put back into the counters, and the cutlery and towels are put away after that. Hide idly watches Kaneki get up and move to the living room as he sorts the knives and forks and spoons.

Once finished with the draws, he expects Kaneki to be sleeping on the couch. Then he could carry him to the bed and finally get some sleep himself, but, to Hide’s dismay, he finds Kaneki as a wake as he was two hours ago. Kaneki sits on the couch, looking at the wall.

Hide, with the last of this physical energy, collapses next to Kaneki on the couch. He whines just a little bit.

“’Neki, man, aren’t you sleepy?” Hide asks. Kaneki merely grips and un-grips the couch pillow.

Not until 1 am does Kaneki’s eyes close, and he slumps to his side on the couch. By then, Hide can only pick up the discarded quilt and put it over Kaneki.

Hide passes out shortly after.


	5. Damage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so loooooooong my god. University.   
> It's now been over a year since i first started this thing! I really thought i would have finished by now...  
> I'll fix the spelling later i promise.
> 
> I hope you all like it!!

_Brain Damage_

_Psychology_

_Psychologic damage_

 

The tapping of a keyboard fills the living room. Hide sits at his desk, and has been for a long while now. He started with hope and a little desperation, but this has diminished considerably with each unproductive search on Google. He is growing more and more miserable at his lack of findings.

Hide had decided to not go the collage today. Well, he had only woken up fairly recently, and it’s well into the afternoon. His decision to stay home is mostly due to circumstance. But, Hide knows, he doesn’t want to leave Kaneki if he doesn’t have to, and he can simply find a classmate who would be willing to catch him up another day.

Hide groans at his computer screen, and weakens to rest his head on his good hand. He stares at his screen with a dissatisfied frown.

He only turns away when he hears a stir from behind. Kaneki must be waking up. Hide takes a look over his shoulder and sees him move on the couch, unsure, before sitting up slowly. He looks like he still hasn’t gotten enough sleep. He has only had about ten hours, Hide thinks with humour.

“Afternoon~,” He says with a smile. Kaneki is still. His greetings are never returned. He suddenly feels slightly sick then, as he sits in front of a long history list of sites that strongly suggest he never will again.

Hide watches the quilt steadily slide from Kaneki’s shoulders, revealing a dirty t-shirt. He then remembers the shirt hasn’t been changed since he had taken his last bath.

Hide gets up from his computer. His fruitless research will have to wait, he supposes.

On his way across the living room and toward his bedroom he also makes a mental note to make some coffee for the freshly (half)awake man.

His room is dark with the blinds drawn, and he doesn’t bother to turn the lights on for what is to be a quick trip to his dresser. And it is; he grabs a nice, clean shirt for Kaneki in a few decisive seconds, but he stalls on his way out. He sees the bookshelf, dark and slim, at the corner of his vision.

He walks to it, not exactly knowing why. With a blue shirt loose in his bad hand that still harshly aches, he brings his other to touch and read the spines of the many various books. Hide ponders the possibility of finding something here that might help Kaneki, like they used to, but he knows very well this possibility is slim to none.

This is the very bookshelf from Kaneki’s apartment. It was one of the few things he fought to obtain when he heard Kaneki’s things were to be forcibly moved away with a lack of rent pay. He insisted Kaneki would be back at first, and back then, he believed it. That had been four months ago.

Although the bookshelf was secured for Kaneki’s benefit, it’s presence had an effect on Hide as well. He somehow slept better with it in his room. He felt hopeful when looking at the titles, and remembering the times he had seen them in his friend’s hands. Like he had one half of a happy picture, and he only needs to find the other. Hide had even attempted to read one, once, but it sits on his bedside dresser still; a bookmark only a few pages in, accompanied by a tear stain.

Hide walks from his bedroom, a shirt in one hand and a book in the other.

He puts the book on the now up-right coffee table, needing two hands. Well, one and a half, he thinks.

“Ok ‘Neki, about time we change your shirt, right?” He says as upbeat as he can manage.

Hide remembers just how he got Kaneki to cooperate the first time, and he shows an almost mischievous smile. The quilt is fully removed, though Kaneki shows no sign of caring, nor noticing.

“Are you going to lift your arms up, or do I have to tickle you again?”

Kaneki dose nothing.

Hide lifts Kaneki’s shirt as far as his ribs, and proceeds to lightly brush them with his fingers. In return, he gets a sound from the back of his friend’s throat. Almost a snort. He gives more slow touches and Kaneki’s shoulders rise away. It isn’t long at all before Kaneki is sounding an awkward laugh and his arms are in the air to get the tickles to stop. Then Hide does stop, and quickly tugs the shirt over his head and drops it to the ground.

Getting the new shirt on is simple, and Hide hopes this make him more comfortable. But he won’t know either way. It’s a fact that brings stress and unease constantly. Hide is forever second-guessing his decisions. His decisions effect Kaneki, and he doesn’t have the ability to speak about it at the moment.

Coffee, Hide remembers.

He walks to the kitchen. The kettle is full and steaming in minutes, in which Hide doesn’t have much of a thought. He pours the drinks slowly, one mug and one plastic cup, and even waits for them to cool a little before attempting to bring them into the living room. He brings Kaneki’s in first. His hand is still too weak. It may be hurting more than yesterday, in fact. Hide doesn’t dwell on the thought for long. He wears a smile when sitting back down with Kaneki.

“Ready for some coffee?”

Like the time before, helping Kaneki drink goes fairly smoothly. In fact, Hide thinks Kaneki is even eager to drink, unlike twice before. His throat moves as he gulps and gulps. He finishes in a minute.

Hide doesn’t comment on this to Kaneki, and simply puts the finished bottle on the coffee table. He’s glad Kaneki appears to like the coffee.

The bottle sits next to the book. Hide frowns, hesitates, and picks it up.

He leans back into the couch more, and reads the cover. He moves it around in his hands; textured, thin, yet oddly heavy.

“Hey, Kaneki,” Hide voices, leaning the book towards him, “I saved all your books, you know. Even the shelf. It was kind of a pain to get it up the stairs, though,” He finishes with a small laugh, as if remembering the struggle in a different light. It’s insincere.

The book stays slanted toward Kaneki, as if waiting for him to take. But perhaps that’s exactly what Hide wants him to do. Take the book. Hide has been waiting for him to take the books for months, and now he’s here. Hide has the other half.

Kaneki might have turned his head away, or maybe not. Either way, he doesn’t look to the book. Until he suddenly does.

Kaneki turns his head, and his eyes land on the very close book propped in Hide’s hand. Hide stills, unsure what the sudden motivation is. He hopes it’s the book. Perhaps he did find one that helps, by some miracle. Maybe Kaneki knows it, recognises it like he did him.

Hide moves the book closer, subtly urging him to take. It takes control to be subtly, however, when he is desperate for Kaneki to do so.

_Take the book,_

_Open it,_

_Thank him for it,_

_Smile at him over the cover again,_

_Kaneki, please just-_

Hide’s thoughts stall at a sudden _drip_ , and he looks to the book. There is a damp circle on the cover now. Then another on Hide’s fingers, coming from the head above. Hide can’t see his face past the curtain of hair. _Drip_.

 _Tears_?

“Kaneki?” Hide brings the book away slowly, “You ok..?”

Kaneki’s gaze, from what Hide can see, follows the book as Hide moves it.

“Do you,” Hide dares, “Do you remember it?” He puts the novel softly on the coffee table, and brings his hand to his lap.

Kaneki’s head moves, but this time away from the cover, and Hide realises. Not the book- his hand.

Another movement from Kaneki, and Hide can see his face now. No tears. Drool, training from his lips down his chin. A drop falls on the couch, and Hide’s blood runs a little colder.

 

* * *

Hide considers his options carefully, and surprisingly, he had a few. Number one option to get food for Kaneki was Anteiku, that little coffee shop run by ghouls. They must have ways of getting meat, or better yet storing it on the property. The thought of having dined in a place that may or may not be hording human meat unnerved Hide just a little.

There are problems with this though- some that will inevitably put him in harm’s way. Hide isn’t supposed to know about them at all. In fact, he suspects Kaneki’s reluctance to tell Hide anything about being a ghoul is linked the their influence. Humans are a threat.

And god forbid they find out he works with the CCG.

It’s too risky. He can’t get hurt, or risk death. He needs to be here for Kaneki.

The second option was also Anteiku- stealing from them. But this, of course, would be just as risky. Even if he were to know _where_ (or _if_ ) they horde meat, a ghoul’s senses are superior. He may wake somebody up with the mere shift of a mug. Or something. He isn’t sure _how_ superior.

So, with a sickening stomach, Hide concludes with his third option- and his google searches got a lot less PG.

_Suicides in Tokyo_

_Where are the most suicides in Tokyo_

His searches are to the point he wants to get to. Blunt. His hands and heart feel heavier with each word he types, and his throat is dry as he scrolls. His body is strapped to his chair.

Kaneki is sitting on the floor, in front of the couch, behind him. Hide doesn’t know if he’s still staring. He hopes he isn’t.

After skimming a few articles, and deleting his history twice, Hide leaves his computer with a muddled plan. A backpack is packed, and it’s in a sort of sick trance that Hide finds himself at his door.

He glances to Kaneki.

“I’ll be back soon,” He says, quietly. He opens the door and walks into the dark.

He won’t come back the same.

* * *

Hide wouldn’t have seen it without his flashlight. The thought of tripping over it sparks memories of horror movie senses he used to love to watch, but this is very real. That fact holds no comfort.

His light shines on a crumpled body of a woman. Considering she got here from falling, or, Hide guesses, jumping off a cliff, her condition is less ghastly than he imagined. Her black hair is tossed over her face, something Hide is grateful for. He severely doubts a good night’s rest tonight as it is, but to see to lifeless eyes staring through him as he stands in darkness. That may push him too far.

For a long while, Hide simply stands and gazes. It’s with great force does he take a step forward. Sticks snap under his feet.

When he deems he is close enough, he kneels and places his backpack on the ground. It’s large, perfect for the deed. Inside is a knife, the biggest one hide owns, clothes, a towel, and a lot of plastic bags.

Hide’s breath shakes as he takes the knife out. He looks at it- clean, shinning. It’s was made for cutting carrots and lettuce and beef perhaps. Tonight it will become stained.

The flashlight is on the ground, casting stage shadows over the body already at unhealthy angles.

Hide wishes no more harm upon this person. That’s what this is- a person. Bent, dead, thoughtless, but a person. Her death is proof enough of the harm she may have already endured through life. Hide doesn’t want to add to it. He looks to the ground, and wonders what her name might have been.

But he doesn’t know her, and never will. Kaneki is hungry. He needs food, and he needs Hide to get it. He _needs_ Hide. Hide can’t let him down, can’t let him suffer or hurt. Not again.

After a few more breathes, deep, slow breaths, Hide reaches his shacking hand to the cold one.

He stretches her arm from next to her torso out over the grass and leaves. After deeming it in the right place, and debating a good place to aim, he lifts the knife over his head.

He wants to say he’s sorry, but if it gets Kaneki food, than he can’t say he truly is.

He closes his eyes as the knife comes down on her elbow. The sounds of skin ripping like thin leather, of blood spitting, and of bone crunching not unlike the twigs under Hide’s feet only a few minutes ago invade Hide’s ears abruptly; and will do so for many day and nights to come.

Without looking, hide knows the blood has reached his hands. He can feel it. He’s disgusted by it.

He looks to his doing, the knife still deep in her arm. His heart beats too fast, his breath shallow. And it’s just begun.

He grips her upper arm, and with force he tugs the knife downward, ripping the skin and mussel and cartilage of the elbow. This makes the elbow only half attached, and the knife is free.

This time Hide looks as does this, and he gags. Blood is leaking onto the ground. He can see the inside of her arm- the ball of the bone especially.

He need to cover his mouth and look away. A few more breaths, and he can continue.

The arm is in half. Then he cuts the hand off. He puts them into plastic bags, ties the handles, raps them up, then puts them in his backpack. Only when he starts on the shoulder does he notice the tear down his face.

The shoulder is hard, and he resorts to pulling it off when he can. Blood mixes with the tears on his cheeks, and he needs to retreat to gag over the roots of a tree.

The next arm is easier, and Hide is self-conscience about that fact. This should never be considered easier, in any sense.  

He’s sweating now as he cuts half the arm from the shoulder. His hands are so coated with red he can’t see his skin.

He tries a leg next. He cuts, and he sobs. He relives the leg of the knee, and then the foot from that.

It’s then, bloodied clothes and hands, saliva pooled in his mouth from gaging, that Hide concludes he can handle no more. The bag is almost full.

He knows his clothes are beyond hiding or repair, and begins to strip to his underwear to change. He wipes himself down with the towel before putting clothes back on. He trembles throughout the procedure. He feels sick, and he’s certain this will not change for a long time.

He wipes the knife clean last, and packs everything into his bag again. He can’t afford to leave anything behind. This is a quiet thought and the back of his mind, however. His mind is in raging turmoil.

His trip back to his apartment is quicker than his way to the cliff. He doesn’t stop for a break, and he doesn’t feel the need to. He locks his bike in practised movements, as opposed to concentrating on what it is he is doing. He walks up the stairs in a trance, like his body is here, but his mind is still struggling at the bottom of the cliff.

It takes five tries to unlock his door correctly, and he steps inside.

The apartment is dark, but Hide only bothers to turn the kitchen light on when he gets there. His heavy bag is placed onto the island counter.

Hide takes a breath.

He doesn’t quite know what to do as of now, not fully. He doesn’t know how to feel. He doesn’t feel relived at all, or accomplished. If he did, the hollowness in his stomach and the weight on his mind might expand.

Kaneki stands at the threshold of the kitchen and the living room. His eyes, predictably, are trained to the bag.

“Just, just give me a minute, Kaneki.” Hide says softly, and still doesn’t make to move an inch towards the bag. Kaneki, thankfully, stay still as well.

Hide take a minute to look at the man; white, messy hair, dark eyes, pale skin, sickly skinny body. He doesn’t speak nor move much at all.

Then he does; Kaneki starts walking towards the counter, arm outstretched. Hide whips around the counter to block the path just in time. He holds Kaneki’s shoulders tightly.

Kaneki looks past him, even as Hide tries to lock their gazes to talk. He pushes the words out as calmly as he can, but everything about the situation has become so seriously wrong. Hide feels dirty, and confused, and tired beyond thought.

“J-just a second ‘K-Ken,” Hide says, “I’ll g-get you something to e-eat.”

Hide turns to the bag, blocking Kaneki with his back. He reaches for the zip, and draws it open. He’s met with a bloodied towel and clothes first, and then deeper, tightly wrapped plastic bags.

The nausea comes back in an instant. Hide feels Kaneki at his back, and pushes on. He takes out on package and puts it on the counter.

Should he just…give it to Kaneki? Should he cut it up more? Hide want’s nothing more to do with it, wants to cut away the very memories instead, but he also doesn’t wish to throw it to the ground like Kaneki is some sort of an animal.

Hide begins to un-rap it. He finds it’s the upper-arm. The first arm he cut- he sees the rip he made down the elbow-

Hide steps away from the counter, suddenly in favour of the kitchen sick instead. He heaves and gags over it, even coughs. Nothing comes out.

By the time he turns, Kaneki is on the floor. Eating. Cold blood are on his lips and hands already. Hide only glimpses this before looking away quickly and covering his mouth.

Felling weak, he by some shred of lasting composer thinks to pile the rest of the meat in the freezer, and then, with duck-tape from an upper shelf, seals it tight.

He stumbles to his bedroom in the dark, and closes the door behind him.

Hide sits with his back to the door. Distantly, he hears Kaneki reach the bones.

 _Snap_.

 _Crunch_.

Hide sobs, and then cries on the floor. It’s all too much. Never in his life has he felt so weak, so unsure, so disgusted and horrified at himself. He cries so hard he can barely breath. His eyes sting from the hot tears, and his jaw and chest hurt from the forceful sobbing.

Kaneki isn’t getting better, Hide thinks, and sobs once more at the horrible fact. Hide doesn’t even know what’s wrong with him to begin with. His vague research only hours ago was proof enough. He was hoping it was brain damage- then it would only be a matter of time before Kaneki’s regeneration would fix the problem. But now he’s not so sure.

Will he ever speak again? Will he ever be stable enough to walk down the street? To make a smile?

Hide grips his hair in frustration. He grits his teeth.

He’s doing everything he can. He can’t do anymore, he realises. Is anything helping? Has he even done anything _to_ help? He recollects the purchasing of a fucking sippy cup, and the tears become angry.

He’s so useless.

The bookshelf observes from the corner. Hide glares at it. No longer does it bring comfort. It feels more like a taunting; of someone dangling Hide’s hopes and wishes on a string just out of reach.   

He has a restless night of nightmares with cold sweat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This had a lot of jumping around in it. Hope that was ok.  
> This was never going to be a happy/cute story :/

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. How does one even pace someone tell me. In fact tell me anything. Go ahead.


End file.
